


lay me down tonight (in my linen and pearls)

by figure8



Series: that’s the kind of love [1]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Intercrural Sex, Kinktober, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i don't know how to explain ANY of this, ironic oppa kink??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 04:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: “What are you even supposed tobe,” Mingyu croaks once he’s regained his basic mental functions.Minghao smirks. “I’m Lolita, obviously.”





	lay me down tonight (in my linen and pearls)

**Author's Note:**

> as predicted i'm three days late and also filling prompts that aren't for today but ehhh whatever  
> i guess this works both for crossdressing and for intercrural so let's say it's two days at once to ease my conscience
> 
> title from fucked my way up to the top by lana del rey because..... Because 
> 
> 150% inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/xuminghao_o/status/1048371939939704832?s=21)

**_Lay me down tonight in my linen and pearls_ ** **_  
_ ** **_Lay me down tonight, I'm your favorite girl_ **

 

“Uh,” Mingyu says very intelligently, the word coming out more like a gurgle, and Wonwoo _loses_ his shit on his right, the traitor.

“You made it,” Minghao grins on the threshold, hand on the doorframe, taking a step back to let Mingyu and Wonwoo into the house. The music coming from inside already sounds loud as hell, the walls vibrating a little bit from how strong the bass is.

It’s not what has Mingyu so shaken, though. No, that would be Minghao’s outfit—costume? Outfit, it’s definitely an _outfit,_ even if it’s Halloween tonight, and this is Minghao’s party. He doesn’t look _dressed up,_ he just looks… good. He just looks really fucking good and Mingyu’s brain is _fried._

“What are you even supposed to _be,_ ” he croaks once he’s regained his basic mental functions.

Minghao gives them a little twirl, the fabric of his red mini-skirt flying up a little. He’s on high heels, some pretty, dainty black Mary Janes with fucking _cherries_ embroidered all over, and he’s wearing thin white ankle-high socks with them, too. Like that, he’s almost as tall as Mingyu, and it’s a little disconcerting. The look is completed by a red spaghetti-strap crop top with two large cartoon cherries printed over the front, and a burgundy velvet jacket that’s not quite his size, slipping a little over his right shoulder, showing a sliver of tan skin.

“Like what you see?” he smirks. “I’m Lolita, obviously.”

“It’s alright,” Mingyu says, but he also slides his hand up Minghao’s abs and under his shirt like a man possessed, so he’s not really fooling anyone. Behind them, Wonwoo is _still_ cackling like a maniac.

“Mmh,” Minghao nods, amused. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Mingyu _thought so_ when he was putting his vampire costume on in his dorm room an hour ago, but now he just feels fatally underdressed. His boyfriend is wearing a skirt. He feels like _someone_ should have warned him.

“Come on, oppa,” Minghao singsongs, tugging at his arm, “Party’s this way!”

Wonwoo looks like he’s having an apoplexy. Mingyu would ask him if he’s okay, but he’s too busy having the life-altering realization that he’s apparently into some freaky shit. Also, that his boyfriend is a _demon._

 

It’s a huge party. Minghao shares the house with Junhui and Jeonghan, but it’s big even for three people, has this large living room they never quite know what to do with. The couch has been pushed back into a wall, making the space appear even wider, and someone has set a beer-pong table in a corner. Mingyu recognizes Soonyoung on one of the teams currently playing around it, dressed as… the Poop Emoji? He squints, and yes, Wonwoo’s boyfriend is definitely literally dressed like shit. It’s what Wonwoo deserves.

“Yo,” Jeonghan greets him, hands full of paper plates and red Solo cups, “You’re finally here. Minghao is so annoying when he misses you.”

Minghao, who still has his fingers curled tightly around Mingyu’s wrist, glares daggers at him. Jeonghan ignores him. He’s dyed the tips of his beautiful long platinum hair pink and blue for the occasion, and he’s wearing eye makeup to match.

“Harley Quinn?” Mingyu asks.

“Yeah. I was going to get the full outfit, but the booty shorts felt like a little too much.” He gives Minghao a pointed look.

“Not my fault you’re a coward,” Minghao shrugs. “ _I_ am living my best life.”

“You’re ruining mine, is what you’re doing,” Mingyu mutters under his breath, but it’s loud enough that both of them hear it anyway. Jeonghan puts down the cups on the cabinet behind him where all the bottles are stored and then pats Mingyu on the shoulder sympathetically. Minghao just snickers, because he’s an awful person.

 

It’s around midnight when Seokmin shouts “Who wants tequila shots?” from the kitchen, and by then Mingyu has already had two beers and half of… whatever was in Minghao’s glass during the first hour he was here. Soonyoung yells “Me!” and then proceeds to trip over his own feet and crash into a chair at full speed, prompting a worried Wonwoo to haul him away from Seokmin with a stern “ _Not_ you.”

Minghao raises his chin from where it was resting on Mingyu’s shoulder. “Shots?”

Mingyu’s already feeling pretty tipsy, but Minghao has that glimmer in his eyes, that look Mingyu can never really say no to, so he nods, and gets dragged towards the kitchen. The flowy material of the skirt flops around with each step Minghao takes, and Mingyu cannot stop staring at his thighs, mesmerized. Minghao shaved his legs for this. Mingyu’s throat feels dry.

Seokmin has a dozen shot glasses out on the kitchen island, and he passes the bottle of tequila above them in one swift motion like he’s an upscale barman in a movie, or something. One of the girls behind him whoops when he sets the bottle back down on the counter, and he offers her his most dazzling smile. He points to the salt shaker and the small white bowl full of lime wedges. “Help yourself, everyone.”

Mingyu goes for one of the shooters, but Minghao plucks it from his hands, his smile mischievous.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, and Mingyu does, and gets a lime shoved there for his trouble. “Don’t move.”

Minghao leans down and licks a hot wet stripe over Mingyu’s collarbone, then sprinkles some salt over it, then licks it again before downing the shot. He takes the wedge from between’s Mingyu’s lips with his teeth, sucks on the juicy part before throwing it in the sink on his right, all this with his gaze never leaving Mingyu’s. Mingyu feels like he’s about to pass out. Someone, most likely Seokmin, whistles loudly.

“That was my shot,” Mingyu says lamely. Minghao arches an eyebrow, takes a second small glass from the island and passes it to him, props himself back against the counter. He shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, lets it fall to the crook of his elbows, throws his head back a little so his throat is bared.

“Do me, then.”

Mingyu swallows audibly. He’s definitely drunker than he initially thought, because sober him would feel too awkward to do what he’s about to do in a room full of people, half of them strangers, but he shoves that thought to the back of his mind and grabs the salt shaker before attaching his mouth to the spot right above Minghao’s collarbone, sucking lightly on his skin. He takes his time, alternates between teasing bites and small kitten licks to soothe the sting, and Minghao sags a little against him, slips his legs between Mingyu’s thighs. When he moves back, he can see the beginning of a bruise forming, glistening with saliva. Minghao’s eyes are dark and hooded, pupils blown. He makes a small hungry sound at the back of his throat when Mingyu deposits a line of salt on the jut of his collarbone. He licks it off fast, downs the shot even faster, and when he sets the glass down Minghao has the lime ready for him, and he sucks on it greedily before lapping at Minghao’s fingertips. They taste like salt and alcohol.

Mingyu’s half-hard by now, growing uncomfortable in his black slacks, and he kind of wants to ditch the party and go up to Minghao’s room, but Minghao seems to have other plans, because he pulls him out of the kitchen and into the living room again, their fingers intertwined. He’s being demanding tonight, in a spoiled kind of way, batting his eyelashes at Mingyu every time he wants something and always getting it. It’s the costume, Mingyu thinks. Minghao’s playing a role, more or less consciously. There’s something about the way he holds himself in that skirt that gives him an _aura,_ a vibe that’s almost imperceptibly different from his usual one. He slouches less, too, but that might have something to do with the heels. It’s not just his posture, though.

They find themselves on the couch, Minghao straddling him, Mingyu’s hands framing Minghao’s thighs under the red skirt. He doesn’t dare move them higher, doesn’t trust himself. Minghao is kissing his way up his throat, his jawline. He’s not exactly sitting _on_ Mingyu, supporting himself on his knees, his ass hanging barely a centimeter above Mingyu’s crotch. It’s driving Mingyu _insane._

“Baby,” he rasps, “Let me take you upstairs.”

“Mmh,” Minghao sighs contently, lightly nosing at his cheek, “Not yet. I’m the host.”

Mingyu lets out a laugh that’s maybe a _tiny_ bit hysterical. “No one cares, Hao. Everyone is wasted.”

Minghao sits himself fully on Mingyu’s lap, grinds back against his rapidly hardening cock. Mingyu _whimpers._

“Maybe I like it like this,” he grins into the crook of Mingyu’s neck. Mingyu’s hold on his legs tightens, fingers digging into hard muscle.

“Yeah?” Mingyu breathes out, almost experimentally. “Want everyone to see you?”

Minghao chuckles at that, exhale hot, tickling on Mingyu’s Adam’s apple. “Want everyone to see _you._ How worked up you get, all for me.” He sucks a mark right there, dead center, impossible to hide. It’s payback for earlier, in the kitchen, Mingyu knows. When he’s satisfied with his work, he drags his teeth up Mingyu’s throat, mouths at his jaw, plants a wet kiss right behind his ear. “Wanna guess what I’m wearing under the skirt?” he whispers.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Mingyu says, voice hoarse. His brain is fuzzy. “Nothing?” he tries, even though it’s unlikely. It’s a _short_ skirt after all, and half their school is here.

“Ding ding ding ding,” Minghao shakes his head. “Try again, loverboy.”

“Panties?” It’s not like there’s eleven hundred options. Minghao smirks. “Fuck,” Mingyu splutters, “For real?”

Minghao bends down again to speak directly into his ear. “For real.”

“Please, can we _please_ go upstairs now?”

Minghao pretends to think about it, rolls his hips one last time while checking around. “Okay,” he says finally, like it’s some sort of great sacrifice he’s making. But his lips are curled up in a smile, fond and wanting at the same time, and he slips his hand into Mingyu’s as they walk up the stairs.

 

The panties are red. The panties are red and _lace,_ and Minghao is spread out on his bed, skirt hiked up, legs open, dangling from the edge of the mattress. Mingyu kneels between them on the floor, mouth watering. He can’t take his eyes off Minghao’s cock, hard as rock in the underwear, tip peeking under the V-shaped waistband.

“Can I—” he starts, voice thick with want, “My mouth, can I put my mouth on you—”

“Yeah,” Minghao says, fingers curling in a _come hither_ motion, “Yeah, come on.”

Mingyu drags his lips, his nose against the strain of his erection; blinks up at him through lust-heavy eyelashes. He laves his tongue at the bulge of delicate fabric, then higher, sucks the head of Minghao’s cock in his mouth. Minghao writhes, and Mingyu presses a hand to his hipbone.

“Good boy,” Minghao croons, a little breathless already, “Come on.” The praise goes straight to Mingyu’s dick. He peels the panties off Minghao to mid-thigh, pushes his knees up. He’s so… exposed, like this. It’s almost obscene. Mingyu lowers his head, mouths at his balls, then lower, breath hot against Minghao’s hole. Minghao makes a soft, needy sound.

He knows where Minghao keeps his lube, grabs it from the nightstand drawer without even having to look, pours a generous amount on his fingers before warming it up. Minghao tenses a little when the first finger circles his rim, so Mingyu presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh, tender. When he slides it in, Minghao’s body relaxes around him, then tenses again as he flexes. He’s hot around Mingyu’s finger, tight, and the slide is good, slick.

“I can take two,” Minghao urges him. Mingyu’s never been good at denying him what he wants.

He pumps two fingers in and out of him easily, and Minghao’s breath hitches, goes erratic.

“You look so good,” Mingyu tells him, voice rough. “Wanted you all night, couldn’t stop looking at you.”

“I know,” Minghao says, and even through his panting Mingyu hears the amusement in his tone. “Could feel— _ah—_ your eyes on me _—fuck,_ Jesus—”

Three fingers now, nudging his prostate rhythmically, making him moan, clench greedily around Mingyu.

“You want to come like this? On my fingers?”

“Fuck,” Minghao grunts, “Yeah, fuck, harder.”

So Mingyu gives him _harder,_ gives him _faster,_ gives him everything he asks for, tells him he’s beautiful, tells him he’s got Mingyu so hard, leaking in his pants, all for him.

“Oppa,”  Minghao moans, and Mingyu thinks it was supposed to come out teasing, a _joke,_ but Minghao sounds wrecked, and it makes everything that comes out of his mouth just sound _desperate,_ and it’s _hot._

“Fuck, Minghao, baby—” Mingyu needs to get off, needs some _relief,_ he’s so turned on he’s dizzy with it, trapped in his boxers. He palms himself with his non-dominant hand, unzips his dress pants clumsily. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Need you to fuck me _harder,_ ” Minghao answers, and he sounds almost annoyed, “Need you to make me come.”

So Mingyu amps up the tempo, until there’s nothing in the room but their ragged breathing and the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the squelching sound of lube, and the quiet _ah_ s Minghao makes, telltale sign that he’s close.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Mingyu coaxes, and the pet name is a new one, but it feels appropriate, and Minghao doesn’t seem to mind. He has a hand around his own cock, stroking himself fast and tight. “That’s it pretty baby, let it go.”

Minghao lets out a string of profanities as his orgasm hits, body arching off the mattress, white streaks spilling into his hand, on his belly. Mingyu follows the last few strokes of his fist around his cock with hungry eyes, doesn’t stop the movement of his own hand until Minghao moves to get away, oversensitive. He still whines when Mingyu’s fingers slip out, bemoaning the emptiness.

“Minghao,” Mingyu rasps, strained. He feels like he’s going to explode.

Minghao grins lazily, happy and spent. “You wanna fuck my thighs?” He rolls over onto his stomach, rearranges his skirt so that his ass is covered again. The panties are still around his legs, although they’ve slid lower. Mingyu is going to lose his _mind._

He slathers some lube between Minghao’s legs, pulls them closer together and admires the view for a second before pulling down his pants and his boxers at once. The first press of his cock between Minghao’s thighs has him groaning loudly, thrusting back in fast, loving the smooth, hot glide. Minghao’s a sight to behold—the slope of his ass under the bright red fabric of the skirt, the delicate curve of his spine, his side profile, the contrast of his jet black hair against the white sheets.

“You feel so good,” he says breathlessly. He bends down to plant a kiss behind Minghao’s ear, covers him with his body, and he gets rewarded for it when Minghao presses his legs tighter together, squeezing around his cock. Minghao lets out a soft sigh, wraps a hand around Mingyu’s nape to bring him close enough to share air with. The angle is awkward, but they make it work, trade slow, languid open-mouthed kisses. Minghao melts into him, back to Mingyu’s chest, and Mingyu feels a wave a heat creep up his spine, heart pounding loudly in his ears. “Fuck, _Hao—_ ”

He comes like that, all over the back of Minghao’s thighs, marking him up. It’s dizzying and filthy and _good,_ so fucking good, his knees wobble and he sees stars as he’s coming down. Collapsing onto his boyfriend, out of breath, he makes a little helpless noise at the back of his throat.

“This feels kind of good right now,” Minghao says after a few seconds, “But in a minute you need to move, or you’re going to crush me.” Mingyu emits a small noncommittal grunt. “We also need to clean up,” Minghao chuckles.

“The sheets are already ruined,” Mingyu groans, making no effort to change positions.

Minghao shoves him off by rolling over. “I’m not falling asleep with dried come on my legs, Kim Mingyu. Come on,” he smiles fondly, touching Mingyu’s nose with his, “Get a washcloth and I’ll even spoon you tonight.”

And, well. Mingyu’s never been good at saying no to him.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [the bird website](http://twitter.com/yifanapologist)!


End file.
